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Lourdes Odette Ricasa

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Los Angeles, CA, US

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Notes From My Mother

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Notes From My Mother

by

Lourdes Odette Ricasa

Her father dead when she was eight
Her mother when she was five or so
Born between Saturday and Sunday
Half way in the middle of the night
In 1917?

Two brothers and two sisters
She could turn to
Whatever battle she had to face
Not for me to trace

Bravery, her greatest trait
To know how to survive
A tennis player and swimmer she was
How best to tell her happy childhood

Life began in Lavanderos, Sampaloc
A street where women laboriously pounded clothes
Daily washing on the stone steps
Averting the sirens of the Second World War

Mother used to go there without shoes
Sit under a guava tree
Her face cara de caimito (face of star apple)
Round and bright green fruit
Pure white milk inside

A bamboo house on wooden stilts
Tropical Island on the Philippine shores
Mangoes like apple tree yards
Bantay, her watchdog sniffs

Kerosene lamps and kerosene tanks
Water pumps, torn up streets, clay roads
Mosquito nets, sleeping mats, hot summers
Rice wrapped in banana leaves and shrimp bagoong

Novena masses, vows and pledges made
Rosary beads, long walks on her knees to the altar
Genuflecting, crossing herself three times
Faces staring in completion
Jesus of Nazarene in his crimson robe
Shrine of the Infant of Prague holding the globe

Father, he was one of sixteen children
Grandfather had three wives
All at the same time
Tomorrow is Que. sera, sera
He must have struggled to keep his head up
A poor family, raised as a great thinker

Commerce and businesses he tried
Manufacturing pianos, sewing machine cabinets
Even all sizes of wooden crosses
Land deals of a dreamer negotiated here and there
Over Café Batangas on Ermita Street

One spring day two persons became one
First came my brother, then me
Who wanted to write, keep writing
In the old days, going to college was not for women
But mother tutored all my homework

Playing mahjong her favorite past time
Taking dancing lessons with Baduy
She was a graceful dancer
To father she would say
It’s good exercise and justify

Soon came three more sisters
Nicknamed Tatlong Maria (three Marias)
Going to different schools
Long sleeved brown and white starchy uniforms

Sampaguitas, jasmine, sounds and colors
Lavender butterfly orchids, waling-waling
Of flowers, fruits and gleeful faces

Coming to America was her dream
The airplane ride her first
Is this the land of opportunity?
Where are the dollars that grows on trees?

Gave up mysterious future of success
Stayed home, took care of all my three children
Whole world of ideas far and beyond her
Mechanics of daily life she followed

Widowed, she led a good life
Laughing with senior citizen friends
Dancing with Bill and Maynard
"I have an American boyfriend", she would brag

Trips to far away Lourdes, France and Fatima, Portugal
Miracles happen everyday
Our thanks to the almighty God

At 74 she survived a delicate brain aneurysm
She never lost the desire to live
Now at 82, in her cotton duster
Her eyes clouded
She sits by the window
And asks, "Who are you?"

My heart sinks feeling sad and torn
Turning away, the day goes on